Drowning
by astral-angel
Summary: He hadn't meant to let it go so far... and now they were both drowning in their own misery... Characters: Jericho, Lita, Randy Orton, Batista, others. P3 up.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Drowning

**Author:** Mauzi

**Email:** WWE

**Pairings:** Lita/Jericho

**Disclaimer:** All WWE characters belong to the WWE.

**Distribution:** Cristal, others ask first

**Rating:** R - covers situations such as rape, abuse, suicide

**Spoilers:** 05/01/04 RAW

**Summary: **He hadn't meant to let it go so far... and now they were both drowning in their own misery.**  
**  
**Notes:** Have no idea where this came from. Thanks to Kristen & Kelly for betaing.

**Prologue**

He was numb. He couldn't feel anything - not the cold that bit at his skin, nor the bile that threatened to rise up in his throat. Could only stare at the floor, his hands locked around his knees. He looked at the tiles, the stark white squares almost blinding in the glare from the fluorescent lighting. He kept his eyes trained on the squares until it occurred to him that his eyes were starting to hurt.

And then the numbness started to thaw, and when he knew everything would come crashing back, he let the tears fall unchecked, the tiles forming a blur in front of his eyes. Choking back a sob, he allowed the memories to wash over him, his hands clenching into fists. He could vaguely hear someone speaking and then

realized that the broken whispers were coming from him; that it was his harsh voice he heard.

His eyes were wide with horror, and when the bile finally found its way to his

throat, he sprang up and bent his head over the toilet, only to find nothing came out. Over the sound of his heaving gasps, he could hear screaming, the familiar voice haunting his memories. He clapped his hands over his ears in a desperate attempt to block the sound, soft whimpers escaping his lips.

He lurched over to the bathroom sink and stared at the mirror. His long hair hung around his face, the tangles in the blonde strands giving it a wild look. His eyes were bloodshot, the red contrasting with the blue of his irises. His lips were dry and chapped, flecks of blood dotting them.

And through it all, he could still hear her screaming. Could hear her pleading, begging. And then felt like screaming himself, disgust welling in his body. His mind was a mess, each echoing scream causing part of it to slip away.

He hadn't meant to let it get so far, hadn't thought it would go so far. But the screaming he could still hear meant that it had happened, that it had gone that far. He should've never gone with them, should have never agreed to go along with the plan. But they hadn't told him about that, about what they were going to do. He hadn't known about it. Not until he'd walked into that room and heard her screaming. And then it was too late.

They would all think he did it because of what happened with Trish. No one would ever know why, would never decipher the reason from between the lines in the letters he'd left them. They would never know why he had taken all the painkillers that they'd had. No one except her. She would know why. And Lita wouldn't care, because the screams echoing in his head were from her, had left her lips.

And now Chris Jericho could do nothing but wait. Wait for the painkillers to kick in. Wait for the screaming to stop. Wait for the tears to dry. Wait for the memories to disappear.

Wait for it all to end


	2. Part 1

Title: Drowning  
  
Author: Mauzi  
  
Email: astral_angel_from_hell@y...  
  
Category: WWE  
  
Pairings: Lita/Jericho  
  
Disclaimer: All WWE characters belong to the WWE.  
  
Distribution: Cristal, others ask first  
  
Rating: *R* - covers situations such as rape, abuse, suicide  
  
Spoilers: 05/01/04 RAW  
  
Notes: It was impossibly hard to write certain bit's of this part, and I hope what I did manage to get down doesn't offend anyone...  
  
Part 1  
  
They stared at the pristine white door in silence, each with a pensive look on their face, though the larger man seemed to be more than a bit confused.  
  
"What are we doing here?" Dave Batista turned to look at Randy Orton questioningly, before his eyes drifted back to the door to the hotel room. Randy Orton shrugged, his dark eyes troubled. "I - I'm not sure, exactly..." He said slowly, but he wore a frown on his face, and his body was tense. Batista noted each of these things and the derisive statement that had been about to leave his lips died. He hesitated before speaking again.  
  
"Well, we might as well see if anybody's inside, right?"  
  
Randy shook his head, his hand digging into his pocket and pulling out a key card.  
  
"I've got a key..." Batista looked at him curiously. In response to the unasked question, Randy shrugged, a slightly sheepish expression appearing on his face. "I 'persuaded' the desk clerk to give me a spare..."  
  
"Randy?" The younger man looked at him, and Batista noticed, not for the first time, how young the wrestler really was. "What's wrong?" A sigh left Randy's lips.  
  
"I've just got this feeling about him... He hasn't been the same lately... I don't know - maybe it means something, most likely it doesn't, but I've got to find out."  
  
"He has seemed a bit different lately..." Batista said slowly, his words trailing as he looked at the door again.  
  
"A bit?" Randy snorted softly, before slipping the key card into the slot, waiting for the little light to glow green. "You think we should knock?" "You think he'd answer?" Batista asked skeptically, and Randy nodded.  
  
"Good point..."  
  
He pushed the door in, stepping inside, before looking around, confused.  
  
"He's not here..."  
  
"What'd ya mean he's not here? I didn't see him go out with the others..."  
  
"He didn't - that's why I was so sure he'd be here tonight." Randy's eyes swept the room twice before he noticed the light spilling out of the bathroom. He nudged Batista, motioning towards the bathroom, only to find Batista holding something in his hands, a slightly panicked expression coming to the man's normally stoic face.  
  
"Randy, these are completely empty..." He held out the two small white bottles, shaking them to emphasize his point. Randy's eyes darted between the two bottles in Batista's hands and the bathroom, before he shook his head, unwilling to believe what was being implied.  
  
"He wouldn't!" His eyes locked on to the bathroom, willing for the blonde man to walk out. Batista followed his gaze to the open door, his jaw clenched. Not looking at Randy, he strode towards the bathroom, only to stop in his tracks, the sight of Chris Jericho's motionless form causing his heart to lurch.  
  
"Oh shit..."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
//Hands tearing at her clothes... bruising her skin... She screamed, her eyes screwed shut, tears still escaping through the corners. She heard the all too familiar laugh and felt her heart breaking all over again at the sound. She struggled futilely against the hands holding her down, her limbs straining against the restraints binding her. A hand on her breast, squeezing harshly, a terrified whimper leaving her lips at the touch. She could feel the blood trickling down her chin from a cut on her lip, could taste the bitter metallic tang. 'No... stop it... please, no...' Her voice was hoarse as she spoke, and her eyes flew open as she felt a weight settle over her battered body. She stared up at the familiar face in horror, feeling him pressed against her, before she screamed again, this time more in pain than fear, as he slammed into her, pumping in and out, an eerie grin on his face...//  
  
She sat up with a cry, her eyes flying open. Her face was ashen, her hands clenching in the tangled bed sheets. The tank top she wore clung to her skin, drenched in sweat. Her breathing was heavy, her lips parted. Her body trembled, then shook with the effort it took her to keep the sobs that tore at her throat contained, her hazel eyes glistening with unshed tears.  
  
The woman blinked rapidly, pushing her hair away from her face, before looking at her trembling hand. Her throat constricting, she sprang off the bed, standing near the bed. She cried out, harsh, hot anger suddenly coursing through her veins. Her hands grasped at the closest thing they found, the small table lamp heavy in her hands. Screaming, she threw it across the room and watched it crash against the wall, before she swung her arm out, knocking various odds and ends off the dresser. Her hands clenched, she stared at the liquid spilling from the open bottle of nail polish, the deep red marring the white carpet in bold  
  
strokes.  
  
She screamed again, rage welling up inside her, pressing against her skin, clamoring to be let out. She spun around, her fist lashing out and connecting with the mirror. She looked at the cracks in the glass, and then at the bright red spotting her hand. Her eyes flashing, she swung her fist at it again, refusing to acknowledge the pain that lashed through her hand as the shards of glass splintered against her skin.  
  
Staring at the cracked glass, she looked at herself, distorted in the shattered mirror. The sight of her broken figure broke something inside of her, broke through all the rage and anger, leaving the woman defenseless against her thoughts, her pain.  
  
Her legs gave out beneath her and she collapsed to the floor, cradling her hand against her body. Harsh sobs racked her body, tears spilling out of her eyes. She curled herself into a small ball, her bloody hand leaving red streaks against her clothes, her skin. Disgust and shame ran through her body, mingling with the terror that lingered there.  
  
She choked against the intense loathing that surfaced, loathing directed at the men who had reduced her to this... to the men that she had once trusted... to the friends that didn't know what happened... to herself.  
  
She shut her eyes, trying to force the images away, to banish the memories that haunted her, but even as she did, Lita knew that they would never go away, that they would always be there...  
  
TBC 


	3. Part 2

**Title:** Drowning  
  
**Author:** Mauzi  
  
**Email:** astralangelfromhellyahoo.com.au

**Category:** WWE  
  
**Characters: **Lita, Jericho, Batista, Orton, others  
  
**Disclaimer****:** All WWE characters belong to the WWE.  
  
**Distribution:** Cristal, others ask first  
  
**Rating:** R - covers situations such as rape, abuse, suicide  
  
**Spoilers:** 05/01/04 RAW 

**Summary: **He hadn't meant to let it go so far... and now they were both drowning in their own misery.

**Notes: **Okay, I had initially intended this to be a Lita/Jericho pairing, but after considering the directions my muses have taken, I've decided to go with other pairings. I may stick with the L/J pairing in the end, but it depends on where the fic goes.  
  
**Part 2**

She eyed the cracked mirror warily, wincing as she saw the small rivulets of dried blood trailing down. Her hands throbbed in response, and she spared them a glance before her eyes turned back to her distorted reflection.

She'd been pretty sure that she looked like a mess, and now the tangled hair and the blood and tears smeared across her face proved it. Looking at the haunted eyes that stared back at her, she frowned, the old, helpless anger rising up to bubble in her throat. She gagged, fighting to breathe, her airway blocked by bile. Her fists clenched and she nearly screamed, the sudden jarring pain slashing at her hand. She looked down at her hands, the stains of fresh red against the old crimson surprising her.

Her gaze locked onto the sliver of glass in her hand, the once clear shard tarnished scarlet with her blood. Again the sudden rush of emotion was overwhelming, and the red head doubled over, her skin burning. She fell to her knees, ignoring the pieces of glass scattered over the floor.

Dirty, she was so dirty.

Hot tears prickled in her eyes as she scrubbed her hands over her body, her mind railing against the confines of silence. She couldn't scream because nobody would hear, and she wouldn't scream because they might. God, she needed to be clean, but nothing worked. Three days and their hands were still on her, their voices taunting her, screaming at her and she just wanted it to stop. She'd do anything to make it stop, to make it go away, but it wouldn't.

Her throat was raw, torn to pieces with the sobs she couldn't stop, and her eyes were bloodshot, burning with tears that continued to fall. She'd spent nearly two days in the shower, her skin glowing red until the water ran cold and she couldn't stop the shivering. But she still wasn't clean, because they were still there. She needed to be clean, had to make them go away.

Her hands continued their futile scrubbing motions, the shard of glass still in her hand slicing into her skin. The stabs of pain were small but constant, and as each bit of flesh was torn into, as each droplet of red welled up, Lita welcomed the pain, embracing the relief it brought from her thoughts.

Randy shifted uncomfortably in the hard metal chair he was sitting in. Two hours, and he was finding it hard to resist the urge to hit someone in the face with it. Judging from Dave's impatient pacing and the dark glares he was shooting at everyone, Batista was thinking along the same lines.

They'd been in that room for two hours, and while Randy had come to the decision that he hated the colour white, the knot in his stomach was tightening ever so slowly, because he had no idea what was going on with Jericho. The plain white envelope seemed to burn a hole in his hands, the neat lettering branded onto his skin. At every squeak of the door in front of him he jumped, dreading the news that the doctor might bring.

He exchanged a look with Batista, his eyes darkening. They should have heard something by now, it'd been forever since they'd called the ambulance that had sped the blonde man to the nearest hospital, the two younger men following behind. He worried his lower lip, the sudden bitter tang of coppery metal that filled his mouth letting him know he'd bitten through the tender flesh. He ran his tongue over the cut, his fists clenching with the knot in his stomach.

The door let out the tell tale squeak and his head whipped up in time with Batista's speedy half turn. Both men started at the expressionless face of the doctor who was treating Chris, hope warring with uncertainty in their eyes. Randy stood up, coming to stand next to Dave, the envelope crushed against his hands.

The man sighed and Randy's stomach plummeted, the knot tightening to breaking point. He heard Dave's sharp intake of breath, and saw the man open his mouth to speak. He fought to hear the words, except a thick fog seemed to have settled over his mind, and as hard as he tried, he couldn't understand what was being said. He could still understand body language though, and as Dave's shoulders slumped, he couldn't hold back the instinctive cry that left his throat.


	4. Part 3

**Title:** Drowning  
  
**Author:** Mauzi

**Category:** WWE  
  
**Pairings/Characters: **Lita/Jericho, Batista, Randy, Lilian, Stacy, others.  
  
**Disclaimer:** All WWE characters belong to the WWE.  
  
**Distribution:** Cristal, others ask first  
  
**Rating:** R - covers situations such as rape, abuse, suicide  
  
**Spoilers:** 05/01/04 RAW

**Summary: **He hadn't meant to let it go so far... and now they were both drowning in their own misery.

**Notes 1: **Okay, back to the Lita/Jericho pairing we go.

**Notes 2: **For Trouble, who bugged me until I coughed this up. Think of it as a belated birthday present =P. Hope you enjoyed your trip to Minnesota.

**  
Part 3  
**

The silence in the room was unnerving. There were three women sitting on benches, each with a different wall to their backs, each with their eyes fixed on the woman that had just walked into the room, her head bowed. Feeling the weight of their stares, Lita looked up, stopping when she saw three pairs of blue eyes looking at her expectantly. Her hazel orbs looked back, panicked and defiant. The other women weren't staring at the expression in her eyes though. They were eyeing the red rimmed eyes, the shadows circling them. The lips that were swollen and puffy from incessant biting.

"Where the hell have you been?" Lita held back the instinctive flinch at the sudden sound and walked towards an empty locker, ignoring Trish's question and the subsequent looks that passed between Stacy and Lilian. "Lita, your phone's been turned off. You didn't stay at the hotel. So, where the hell have you been? Nobody's heard from you in almost a week. We were worried."

Lita stiffened, her body tense. She was listening, not to Trish's continuing rant, but on the little voice in her head that whispered to her furiously. Asking why, if they'd been so worried, they hadn't been there for her, why they'd left her in that hell-hole to die.

"Lita?" Lilian's voice, uncertain, broke through the redheads thoughts. She looked at the petite ring announcer, her expression baleful. "You don't have tell us where you went. We're you're friends Li, we just want to know if you're okay."

The voice picked up again, almost taunting in its tone. _Okay? They're your friends and they just want to know if you're okay? You'd think that the fact that you're a mess would clue them in. Red, puffy eyes circled by black. Hands wrapped up in bandages until they resembled puffy white mittens. Big hole about the size of your tooth in your lip. Yes, you're perfectly fine. Great, even._

Her mouth opened but the scathing remark about to pour out of her mouth died on her lips, a disgusted look appearing on her face. Stacy hurriedly attempted to speak before Trish did, but the sudden swinging of the door opened her mouth.

"Oh my god... have you guys heard the news?" The newest entrant to the room had a painfully excited face, and Lita closed her eyes, wishing that she could get that excited over something. Miss Jackie ignored the other divas momentarily, focusing on Trish, who smiled half heartedly.

"What news?" The bubbly blonde shut the door behind her, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Chris Jericho tried to kill himself." Lita's eyes flew open, widening as a barrage of memories flooded through her mind. Miss Jackie was still talking, saying something about Evolution, but all she heard was the blondes voice telling her that Chris Jericho tried to kill himself.

"I – I need to go..." Pushing past Miss Jackie, she ignored the looks of shock on their faces. Her chest had started to burn, heart hammering painfully in her ribcage. The sound of her blood echoed in her ears, and her eyes blurred as she walked along the empty corridor. The little voice started up yet again, angrily hissing.

'_He tried to kill himself... he puts you through hell and he tried to kill himself?' _

A snort of disbelief escaped her lips, and she slumped against the wall. Her breathing was laboured, torn from her throat, and she resisted the urge to drive her fist through the wall, if only because she didn't want to have to change the bandages again. She closed her eyes, but the voice still continued, taunting.

'_Oh god... why would he try and kill himself? And why the hell do you care? Don't you remember what he did... what he helped them do? Or did it slip your mind?'_

The sound of heavy footsteps jarred her out of her thoughts, Lita's eyes flying open to meet a familiar face, and her heart sunk. Wasn't it enough that she was slowly going insane? Did she continuously have to be on trial, the thin veneer of control she held on to so precariously be continuously tested?

"Well, well, well..."

"Stay the fuck away from me." She bit out, frantically looking for a way to dodge him. Time seemed to slow down, but his long strides kept him going, closing the distance between them. Lita bit back a scream, knowing that she couldn't handle him right now. She had to get away from him.

No matter the cost.


End file.
